


I of the Storm

by eternal_optimist



Series: Beneath the Skin [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Fire Nation Royal Family, Gen, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Ursa (Avatar) is a Good Parent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 02:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29743263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternal_optimist/pseuds/eternal_optimist
Summary: In the ruins of the ancient Sun Warrior civilization, a banished prince and his family seek aid from people forgotten to time. In the heart of the Fire Nation, the fire princess rises to her rightful place as the sole inheritor of the crown.The clock is ticking and secrets are being uncovered still. Time for the little prince and princess to learn to spread their wings.
Relationships: Azula & Ursa (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Ursa & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Beneath the Skin [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978669
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27





	I of the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> *shows up late to the hundred year old with Starbucks* hey everybody!
> 
> On a more serious note, I hope you're all healthy, well and staying safe. I am so very excited to share the next installment of the Dragon! Fire-Fam series, and I hope it could lighten up your day a little. It took a lot of rewriting until it was more or less satisfactory enough to post. So, enjoy!

"So, what's the story then?"

Azula seemed to have resigned herself to the fact that she was going to hear the story Ursa wanted to tell, and that there was nothing she could do about the fact but stay with her brother and endure it.

"You'll see," Ursa said, looking for her drawing papers and calligraphy set. While she wasn't as adept at art as her father used to be, she still wanted to recreate some of the awe she'd experienced hearing the story as a child. She couldn't tell them every truth or piece of it but she could give them this.

Azula sat on the edge of the padded sofa and Zuko occupied the other side, leaving enough space for her in the middle. She opened a few drawers, found a few of her possessions and moved to the shelves, muttering under her breath. Ursa tended not to be as melticous of an organiser in her private parlour as she usually was and she payed the price now as she wasted precious minutes looking for her brushes and ink.

One lucky shelf bore results, revealing her tools.

"Finally," she sighed and brought the inkstone and her favourite brush with her to the sofa.

"I thought we were gonna listen to a story," Zuko said.

"We are," she replied, hiding a smile. So impatient, her children. 

"And we need the paper for that?" Azula asked.

"We do."

They sighed simultaneously.

Zuko perked up, "hey, maybe we are going to know how the first dragons invented art."

Azula snickered behind her hand.

Ursa pinched his side in retaliation and he let out a series of low laughs, shying away from her. She pulled him closer and snuck in another jab to his ticklish stomach, leaving her arm around him so he wouldn't wiggle himself out of her grasp.

"Hmm, well, I'm sure your art tutor would be delighted to educate you on the subject should I ask him to spare a week so he can give you proper lessons."

Zuko stilled and his eyes widen, shooting her a look of horror and betrayal. It was no secret that both of her children could not tolerate more than five minutes of art history on a good day (The title was proudly passed on from royal child to another). The traditional landscapes of their Nation and the great battles of past generals failed to grasp their attention even if Azula exceled at memorizing the details.

"I don't want to, they suck."

"Do they?"

"Yes!"

"Zuzu, stop talking! You'll get us in more trouble."

"A little nicer, darling," she whispered to her.

Azula huffed, the tips of her eyebrows furrowing. 

Ursa merely shook her head, exasperated, and ground the ink, dipping her brush so it had a fine coating on the surface and started moving it across the paper.

Zuko leaned back against her, watching the motion curiously. A moment later, Azula scootched closer and tangled their arms together, laying her head on Ursa's upper arm.

She smiled at the warmth emitting from her children and began her tale.

"Once upon a time…"

* * *

The Sun Warrior Chief eyes them with consideration. 

Zuko still reels from the shock, even days after. The Sun Warriors are alive and flourishing, their civilisation prospering, its people preserving the old ways. His country had been mistaken, they weren't dead.

Fire churns and cackles under his flesh with an intensity that would have left his sifus tutting in disapproval. His attempts at control the last few days have been rough; hiding on a ship, keeping low in the Fire Nation - he was a prince and not some low criminal who should hide - grappling with the claims that his mother is, is…

He can't even finish the thought.

"I thought Sozin had issued the hunt of all dragons. That outside of these lands, no others live."

"So did I," his uncle says with a tone that would inspire the belief that their welcome was a generous one instead of the reality that is their current predicament; surrounded by other armed Sun Warriors from all sides.

"Well, to his credit. We weren't exactly… known then," Nian says.

"We?"

She nods, quick and somber.

"Explain," the chief orders. The others shift, a strange tension rising among their ranks.

Nian licks her lips, pondering the bodies around her with a look of careful calculation and sighs. 

"Have you ever heard of spirit bargains?"

* * *

He will not believe them. Zuko listens as Nian, his so called aunt, explains a tale so ludicrous it could have belonged to a theatre act made by the Ember Island Players, and hides his grimace. The Chief for his part remains silent, nothing but the frown between his eyebrows that told Zuko he is still listening and the glances thrown at the dragon behind him every now and then.

He does the same, noting how it - she - moves, repositioning her legs every few seconds. From nervousness or a desire to pounce, he is not sure. 

"I see," the chief says after Nian falls silent. Zuko blinks, realising that she's finished and he only heard little.

Azula's voice is in his ears, whispering, mocking,  _ you'll never learn anything if you don't listen, Zuzu _ .

He hates that he falls in the same trap here as he did in the Palace.

"The spirits have blessed you," the chief announces, and his people listen. "You have come to us for help, and we will offer it."

Nian lights up at the words, the corner of her mouth twitching.

"But, you must first pass the judgement of the Masters. They will judge your heart and ancestry and will determine if you speak the truth."

"Of course," Nian nods. "We would be honoured and willing to submit to wherever test they deem necessary." 

The words garner some sort of approval, evident through the uptick of his mouth. 

The Sun Warriors lead them deeper towards the main temple. As they walk, he hears Nian offer Uncle a quick thanks for bringing them here.

Zuko scowles. They are wrong. Uncle, Nian, the Sun Warriors. His mother isn't some extinct myth creature who'd inherited it from her family, descendant of the last Avatar - a traitor. She is just that, his mother.

"Don't worry," Nian turns to the dragon. "I'm sure we'll do fine. Great grandfather used to be famous in these circles, you know mystical business and all that."

With the serpentine head, it is hard to say if she is in fact worried at all but she does a quirky motion of her head that could have passed for a nod.

Zuko looks away. They are wrong.

* * *

"I don't get it, how come nobody knew about the dragon family? You can't just hide a dragon, they're huge!" Zuko interrupted her. 

"I was about to get to that," she said, amused.

"Oh," he deflated in his seat.

"Zuzu," Azula hissed, unleashing the full might of her glare on him. "How are we gonna know what will happen if you don't shut up?"

Ursa weighed the benefits of another chastisement to behave before deciding against it this once. Space and moderation was to be observed and well, she could sympathise with the desire to uncover what's to come in a particularly captivating story. 

"Sorry," Zuko whispered.

Once they settled back she continued, sparing a glance towards the window. Time was quickly running out. She carefully outlined a slope of a mountain, and added an island around the mass.

"You see, this family was unlike any other, for they were touched by a spirit. Some say it is a one so ancient its name has been lost to time, and so hid their skin in lava caves deep beneath the surface. When they dug their way out to land, they did so with human hands…"

* * *

These are the facts Zuko learns at the end of his journey, standing on the platform between the mouths of two caves as Nian breathes with an intensity that gives away her shock. 

First: the terror he thought he'd discarded, left behind with the child he was, is discarded no more. It was just biding its time and now it has sunk its claws in.

Second: Uncle Iroh lied.

Third: there isn't only one dragon left in the world.

_ Of course there isn't _ , his voice sounds within his head.  _ Nian had said he was one, too _ . He immediately banishes the thought.

The red and blue dragons, Ran and Shaw, soar in circles around them, whipping air in their faces. His phoenix tail flutters in the wind behind him and Nian quickly mutters expletives of various multitudes under her breath. He cannot say he doesn't wish to do the same but shock has rendered him speechless.

Ran and Shaw stop their strange movements, and hover in the air above them. It lets Zuko properly take in their size, they're twice as big as his … the dragon, they're twice as big as the dragon.

The music comes to a sharp halt as the Warriors kneel on the ground, arms spread next to their heads. Uncle kneels beside the Chief, brows furrowed in apprehension. The clearing gives away to a stillness that has goosebumps slide all over his skin.

Nian slides closer to him and the dragon curls around them both. It takes him a moment to understand the protective gesture. 

The Firebending masters open their mouths, canines and teeth on display, and roar.

* * *

"The dragons, having grown lonely and weak away from others, wished for a way to go back home. Shedding their scales proved effective, and so they bore silk robes and topknots and mingled with the Fire Nation's people, bringing honour and glory to their country."

"The dragons lived here in the Fire Nation?" It was Azula who interrupted this time, her tone blank. Ursa was not sure what to make of it.

"Yes," she answered nonetheless.

"And no one suspected they weren't true citizens?" Azula asked dubiously.

Zuko wore a similar look of confusion on her left side.

She wet her lips. How was she to explain to her children that her family was of this land, of their people, children of Agni like any other in their great nation, had lived and prevailed (and died) here, without giving away the secret too soon. She tried to think of some way nonetheless.

She failed.

"No. Well," Ursa said, letting that thread of thought slip from her fingers. It would take her down a deary path. "Not exactly."

Azula tilted her head to the side and Zuko's eyebrows drew into the faintest frowns, as if Ursa had proven them right.

She dips the brush for another coating.

* * *

"Did you see them? Did you see them, did you see them?" His younger brother rushes in with all the boundless energy and sheer excitement that six year olds have.

Horado remains unfazed and continues his careful strokes of ink on the paper. He's been working on this codex for days and days on end and he refuses to mess up even a single line now. "See what?"

"The outsiders!"

He began to outline another section, adding details that he could colour later, until his brother reminded him that he is still present and that Horado was unfortunately engaged in conversation. 

"No, I didn't see them,” he says, cross-referencing his work in the number of papers spread across his low table.

Noting some new information, he reaches for the farthest one in interest.

“Horado!” his brother whines.

He releases a deep, weary sigh, looking for solace. He must have done something truly awful for the Sun Spirit to punish him like this. “Yes, Itzli.”

“Can we go see the outsiders?”

“No! Why do you even want to?”

“We never have outsiders here in Tolumira and I want to see them before they die.”

“Oh, okay, wait, what?” That effectively diverts his attention solely on Itzli. “Why would they die?”

His brother gives him a disgruntled look. “Uncle Ham Gao says it’s only a matter of time before the masters eat them.” With that he runs outside of their hut leaving Horado with the deep bone certainty that his brother is spending far too much time around their uncle.

* * *

After a year of hiding with Ursa and a year after that of moving from place to place, finding refugees in empty streets and lone roads, Nian finds the hut the Sun Warriors give to them a wonderful improvement. It’s perfectly sufficient for all three of them, without forcing them to be cramped together. Zuko glowers at their predicament, and drops to sit in silence.

She wonders if that is his default, or if it is just her luck that the first time she meets one of the last members of her family, he is abstaining from ever smiling ever again. Probably the latter, knowing her impressive track record.

Nian would rather think about that than about the scar covering half his face, a sheep’s hide forcibly discarded to reveal the dragon underneath. She doesn’t want to think about what flame could do that kind of damage.

Great Grandma Ta Min seeked out the spirits so that none of her children would get burned.

Ursa’s head peeks inside of the hut, surveying their generous gift. General Iroh rasps out a laugh at the sight and Nian bites her lips to keep from doing the same. Her cousin looks like she is peeking inside of a dollhouse at her little toys.

Nevermind, disturbing metaphor.

“I’d invite you inside, but I’m afraid the space is a little tight.”

Ursa rolls her eyes at the general, the motion comically large on her head. 

“Fear not, Ursa, you’re in luck. These islands are rarely blessed with rain.”

The thought of her cousin holding her wings above herself to provide shielding from mother nature prove too much for her composure and she finally giggles, clutching her sides.

Zuko lets out a snarl full of displeasure that the general tactfully ignores.

Would you look at that? It is his natural disposition after all.

* * *

"Life was wonderful for this mysterious family, even with so big a secret. The years went by and they prospered, having many children who grew up talented and well known. But like all good things, their luck ran out. They were attacked."

"Was it Earth Kingdom battalions?" Zuko inquired eagerly. 

"Water Tribe Fleets?" Azula asked, eyes sparkling.

"No and no."

They deflated as one, disappointment covering every inch of their faces. She breathed out a small laugh, biting her smile.  Ursa outlined a small house on the side of her page, pleased when she managed to draw its structure without a hitch.

"In the same town they lived, there was another prominent dynasty, all firebenders. They were rivals to the dragons and did not like having such a threat around them."

Zuko's gasp was soft. "What did they do?"

"Their head of house devised a plan so they could rise above them and tasked the rest of his family with watching the dragons, looking for any weaknesses they could use." Ursa recalled honeyed words of nobles and military personnel alike. At least her family had been spared the bleak fate of this fictional tale, meager improvement to reality as it was. "After a while, they began noticing all their eccentrics."

She paused, that flicker of apprehension she had multiplying in size. This was where she tested the waters with her children. 

"They took careful note of the way they'd seem cold in the summer and terribly warm in the winter, their hoarding habits and knew that there was far farther than meets the eye to them."

Azula and Zuko for their parts took in her words with nothing but acceptance.

Like this was nothing more than a children's tale, nothing more than a story.

Ursa felt the loneliness piercing her heart keenly.

She braved a smile that hurts and wrapped her calm around her like a well worn cloak. It didn't matter, really, in a few years she wouldn't be alone anymore.

"The dragons' nemesis decided to befriend them. Business blossomed between them and their children grew alongside each other. Their city celebrated this alliance that had blessed their land with strength and peace-"

A quick sharp knock sounded on the door.

"Come in."

Daiyu, her handmaiden, enters and bows. Ursa briefly glanced at the window, noticing the change of position of the shadows through the windows. Their time was up.

"Pardon my interruption, your highness, but the little prince and princess' sifu has arrived."

"Thank you, Daiyu," she said, standing up to put her painting board, papers and ink on the table. "You may leave. I'll escort my children to their tutor."

"Of course, princess." 

Her handmaidens disappeared behind the door as it shuts

"Come on, you two. It's time to go."

"What about the rest of the story?" Zuko asked. Azula huffed at his side, posture demanding the answer as well.

Ursa smiled and leaned in conspiratorially. "Finish your lessons quickly and we will find out what happens."

* * *

Next morning has Nian and the dragon taken to meet spiritual shamans and healers to inspect the problem at hand while Uncle asks the Chief if he'll indulge him in conversation. And hypothetically, Zuko would be with Nian, so he can learn as well, but non-hypothetically he gave the politest excuse he could think of, so he'd be left alone and Uncle smiled and told him yes, resting was a lovely idea.

Zuko doesn't want to rest.

He wants out, he wants to find the Avatar, he wants to go home. He wants and he wants and he has nothing of it.

He drags a hand down his face, careful not to touch his scar.

(Yesterday, he stumbled across his reflection in an old mirror discarded, catching sight of his reflection before Zuko could have the chance to flee. His face glared back, a grotesque mess, skin peeled back to reveal flesh that wasn’t quite, flesh that was  _ scales _ .)

In a fit, he makes the decision to sneak outside of the hut, walks behind trees where no one can see.

He finds nothing but overgrown vines and cracked slabs of stone at the furthest corners. He wonders why they've been left without proper reparations but decides he doesn't care enough to pursue an answer.

He walks until the trees decline and he finds the mouth of a cave.

Checking left and right to make sure no one is watching, Zuko made his way down, careful not to slip on the rock. Tiny flames flicker from his hand, shedding some light in the dark space as he dives deeper and deeper in. Rocky pillars stretched from the ceiling to the floor and he only walked further, wondering when it would end. 

He came to a stop when he reached an alcove, an opening above shedding sunlight down on this part, rendering his fire useless. Zuko dropped his hands and let his flames wither. He stands there for a minute, staring in confusion at the view in front of him.

The walls had been carved to allow little spaces inside them and when he steps closer, he realizes books have been placed in them, bound with strings. He picks one at random to browse, groaning when he finds it full of intricate drawings without a decipherable character in sight.

“What are you doing?”

Startled, the book drops from his hand as Zuko spins on his feet to face whoever had snuck up on him. He is young, younger than the men he’d seen so far, with his ponytail held on the top of his head, his face not tattooed as heavily as the other Warriors. If he had to guess, he’d put him at the age Lu Ten was before the Siege.

The boy frowns.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

My apologies, he should say. It’s polite and sufficient, fit for a prince to offer without degrading himself, an acceptable compromise, but Zuko looks to the strange worn out books that are full of pictures in their little spaces in the walls and blurts out, “why?”

The young man in front of him narrows his eyes, a clench of his fist before the tension bleeds out all at once and he sizes up Zuko. 

"So in addition to tainting our sacred teachings and way of life and ravaging the world, our descendants also lack all sorts of manners."

"Watch your mouth!"

A pointed arch of his eyebrows has Zuko quacking in anger. Does he have no idea who he is speaking to?

"I will speak as I wish, this is my library."

"This is your  _ library _ ?"

“Well…” his lips pursue. “It is the great library of Tolumira but I am in charge of it.”

Zuko fixates on the  _ great  _ part before his brain catches up with the rest of the sentence. “ _ You _ are in charge. How old are you?"

He raises his head in a proud tilt, "I’m nineteen.”

“That’s not very old, you know.”

“Says the fourteen year old.”

“I am fourteen and a  _ half _ .”

“That is not an improvement.”

“And you’re not either,” he snaps, before realising that the comeback is pointless and stupid and that he really need to learn to hold his tongue sometimes.

"Is that supposed to be insulting?"

"What do you think?"

The boy blinks. "Out."

Fine. He didn't even want to stay here.

* * *

The one tasked with escorting them leads them away from the centralized buildings and huts and to a hill that overlooks where they met (almost got scorched to death by) the Masters. It's only her and Ursa though, her cousin's son had preferred to stay behind while the general went to do… whatever it is that retired royal generals who didn't slaughter dragons like they claimed to, did.

That last part was still hard to wrap her head around.

She'd heard the stories when she was young. The crown prince had slayed the last of the feral beasts that dared turn on their people and had wondered what it meant for  _ her _ who'd been told that she had something from the spirits that wasn't quite human.

Great grandmother meant to protect them, but growing up Nian had resented it too much to care.

And now, now she was walking with her cousin trying to understand. Life was strange.

The Sun Warrior stops on the top and bows in the traditional stance as soon as the woman, whose hair was in high ponytail, head marked by a red tattoo with a design that Nian couldn't decipher, standing in the middle of a circle of children turns to meet their eyes. Nian follows suit.

"Shaman Patli," she murmurs. "Forgive us for interrupting your lesson."

"I thought there were three?"

Zuko. "He asked to excuse him. He was tired. " A blatant lie. "Thank you for having us."

“You’re the outsiders, are you not?”

Nian’s eyes dart to the young ones before she gives a single affirmative nod. 

“Sit.”

She blinks, mind going blank. “Uh-”

"Do you wish to solve your problem or not? Sit."

The tone is so reminiscent of her childhood school teachers that her knees buckle without another protest. Ursa remains a hulking shadow behind her, looming over them all. The shaman for her part does not disapprove of the several foot tall creature in her class and Nian reminds herself that dragons are revered here, the children were probably over themselves in awe if the stares were any indication.

Shaman Patli smoothly relapses into explanations about Chi - which she knows - and pathways - she knows that as well - and the inner suns inside us, which sounds like firebending basics taught to younglings, except the Shaman speaks about healing and connections and Nian never really cared about her lack of bending abilities before everything but she is pretty sure that isn’t right. How can fire be used to identify illnesses and read energy?

The little ones can’t care less for her ruminications, as they sit listening to every word.

“Now, can anyone tell me what ails our guest?” The children remain silent, communicating through sheer looks alone. “Anyone? Colel?”

The young girl in question, Colel, startles in surprise and shrinks on herself.

“Come on, dear. I know you know the answer.”

"Uh," the girl shoots them a look in alarm. "I am not really sure."

"Trying is the way of the sun."

Nian didn't think the sun "tries" to rise each morning but she wasn't about to point that out.

"Oh, well, um, the dragon's cords are all messed up."

"Cords?" Nian asked. Confusion cannot even begin to describe what she feels.

The shaman doesn't turn to answer her but the little girl does. 

"Yes, the cords are our energy, they're like strings and they represent our pieces." The explanation gets more confusing as Colel goes on but Nian tries her best to understand nonetheless. "We're all made up of it but different strings though, and sometimes they get tangled together."

She thinks she is starting to stitch a picture together. 

"And Ursa," she tips her head back toward her cousin to dissuade any confusion. "She messed them up."

Ursa doesn't get the chance at taking offence before Palti interjects. 

"The murking of her energy is a side effect, not the cause." The shaman sizes Nian up and it makes her want to grab at her sword. "Yours is murky as well."

That was unexpected. "I… am not a dragon."

"Hmm. Perhaps not right now you aren't."

Nian doesn't bother to correct her. Too hard to explain.

"Would you be able to help us clear the energy?"

"First tell me of how this came to be."

She really wasn't made to be a storyteller, that was more of Ursa's forte. Still, she tells the tale.

* * *

They rushed inside her chambers. Well, perhaps, rush was the wrong word to use. Her children had outgrown the habit with lessons of etiquette and so they knocked and came inside with a skip in their footsteps. Walking eagerly might be the more accurate term.

Still, technical issues aside, they were both restless to resume and she, happy to indulge them, happy for this little thing that feels the closest to cracking the shell she had to hide in, gestured for them to sit on the cushions by the window and lit a few lights for their benefit.

“Now where were we?”

‘“The dragons and their enemies were having a party,” Azula helpfully spoke up.

“Oh, yes. Such great festivities. But you know what? What happens after is what matters."

* * *

“You know you’ll have to come eventually, right?”

“No, thank you,” he spits out the words. Nian gives him a side glare to convey how annoying she finds his behaviour and Zuko glares right back.

She glares harder. He does as well.

"Prince Zuko," Uncle's voice is coaxing. "I believe it would be unwise of us to not take this opportunity and pursue knowledge. The Sun Warriors were generous enough to let us in. Refusing their gifts would be disrespectful."

Though Uncle Iroh doesn't  _ chide _ , Zuko still squirms on the inside. His uncle is right, it would be rude and etiquette has been drilled far too much in his head as a child that even now, he can't ignore it. 

"Alright, I will go."

"Thank you, nephew. I am sure you'll enjoy your time."

* * *

"How delightful, the Fire Nation Royals have spat on our traditions for years, terrorised the peace of the world and now I have three members of them in my class."

"Two," Nian pipes up, ever so helpfully. 

Patli doesn't even blink. "Two," she acquiesces.

Zuko goes to stand, furious beyond words, because who does she think she is, when a sharp forceful tug pulls him from the back and pushes him to the ground.

"Please don't do anything stupid. I am begging you," Nian grits.

"That's rich coming from you," he hisses back.

Low rumbling comes from above them, chastising, and they shut up.

"So little prince. Your koala sheep hide is falling away."

"It is not-" he starts then bites his inner cheek. He wasn't obligated to explain anything. 

"I neither mock nor prod. Your life is no business but your own. But you come seeking our input, so I expect an open mind and a closed mouth while you learn. Is that acceptable?"

Was she giving him a choice or being rhetoric?

He nods.

"Good."

A set of hurried steps arrive, its bearer breathing raggedly. "Sorry, I'm late shaman."

Oh,  _ him _ ! Could nothing go right in his life?

"It is alright, Horado. Did you bring the codices I asked for?"

"Yes, shaman."

"Good, take the little prince back to the library. I want you to explain chi and energy reading to him."

"I already know about that."

As one, the children turn to give him glances full of judgement.

Zuko takes a deep, calming breath and stands. He promised his uncle he'd see this through and a prince's word is unbreakable. 

He follows after the library keeper, and he is not sulking, he is not but he desperately wishes he could do something petty. 

"So, are you gonna sit with the youngling from now on, learning the basics?"

" _ Shut up _ !"

* * *

He listens to the soft snores of his uncle, observes the quietness of Nian’s body, hears the rasps of breath leaving the dragon’s lungs.

Zuko silently gets to his feet, a row of chalk hidden in the lines of his clothes. He hides outside of the hut, keeping away from any of the others, his thoughts running a mile in his head, constricting his throat.  He unfolds the chart he hid and carefully adds another line to the assortment he’d made before.

He doesn’t scream himself hoarse when he sees how long they've been here, but only barely.

* * *

“After months of this friendship, the nemesis were surer than ever of the secret of their enemies, and vowed to hunt the inhuman threat. A brother urged them to reconsider and proposed to hunt the dragons and steal their hides, for protection in the future from their enemies’ wayward flames and to help guide them to the lost roads to the spirit world.”

Zuko frowned, shaking his head. “Dragon hides can’t guide you to the spirit world.”

“They do in this story.” More of a gesture to her childhood than fact or a lesson to be imparted, a callback when she’d been convinced that if she tried to dig at her skin and grabbed at her scales, the spirits would take her somewhere exciting to have an adventure all on her own. Her parents had been at loss at what to do, and more than one night had been spent between drilling the impossibility of her transformation, the danger of such a feat and fighting for telling her too soon.

She missed the girl she used to be. 

“Well, that’s stupid,” Azula declared. “If it was really so important, they should have mentioned it earlier. They can’t just drop that right before the important bit.”

Ursa snorted before she could stop herself, the snort then evolving into a full-hearted laugh. It wasn’t very polite and she was setting up a  _ terrible  _ example for her children but really what was she supposed to do?

“A very grave mistake,” she agreed.

Azula made a humming noise.

* * *

The Sun is making its way up in the sky when the dragon climbs on her hill.

She freezes when she sees her, expression decidedly apologetic and Patli makes a low sound that is cross between incredulous and amused. It is disconcerting to see such bewilderment on a face that resembles that of the Great Masters.

Resembles but is not identical, for there are obvious differences; size and scale colour and that distinct otherness that makes her wonder how they'd hidden among the traitors for so many years without being found.

Patli is an old woman, not an elder but an old woman, and she’d studied her fair share of anomalies in codices and ventured in meditation and spiritual connections further than most people in life would dare to go. And here is a creature in front of her fabled by the very spirits they prayed to into the image of their masters and protectors, Ran and Shaw.

A laughable sham if she's ever seen one. To ask the spirits for blessings is one thing, but to lock their gifts under lock and key, hide the changes to pretend they're not there? Asking for swift death would have been kinder.  They sat motionless for years and years until their energy sapped and their muscles atrophied and then thought to run a hundred miles only to discover they had no way to go back.

No matter. Patli hopes she'll uncover if reversing it could be possible. 

It would certainly be  _ entertaining _ , at the very least. 

"Let's get to work, shall we?"

* * *

"You must focus, I do not know how this came to be so you're the only one who can determine a more concrete way to regain your human form. Think about your transformation, what triggered it, how it felt and try to retrace your steps in reverse."

The dragon is frustrated and the fire escaping its nostrils is evidence. Zuko walks in as Patli fans the flames away, looking deeply unamused.

"Little prince," her voice is as sharp as any Headmistress back home could hope to be. "Come."

He does so, wary.

“Did Horado teach you what I asked?”

“Yes.” Familiar and yet not, the teachings were. Fire is life but it’s the warmth and the kindle not only roaring flames, crackling to give heat, enduring to sustain life. Fire comes from the breath but it cannot live without the Earth and would consume without the Water, a ravenous beast.

Fire pulses inside everyone with life, more than just flames, pulsing and ever-existent, it cannot exist without the blood flowing in one’s veins and blood cannot flow without it. Energy binds, life unites, the stories of old live to teach so the road does not stop. 

Horado said fire can  _ heal,  _ not the basic method for arthritis and muscle lock, but to help the energy flow inside the body. It sounds so absurd, he doubts it, his people would have discovered this method if it did.

Right?

“Good,” Patli says. 

"You're in luck, little prince. Today, you'll see something called chi healing, an ancient technique invented hundreds of years ago."

Zuko looks at her then the dragon then her again. "How is this going to help?"

The Shaman crooks a smile. "Your mother needs help from us as well as effort on her part. So we'll do our due and help heal the injuries her spirit has sustained. The transformation is beyond just the physical, you know?"

He really doesn't but Zuko is willing to listen to anything at this point. 

* * *

This is insanity, he has to leave.

No matter how satisfied Uncle was to stay, no matter how optimistic Palti and Tochtlee and the other healers were of their odds, no matter how much the remnants of this civilization called at the curiosity in him.

Zuko has to leave.

He’s already failed his country by allowing himself to be swayed by these lies in the first place and what was he thinking, following some stranger’s words, coming here to a place where words of treason against his country were spoken without shame?

He cannot stay. He has to go back to his ship, salvage the situation as much as he can. He shudders at the thought of messenger hawks delivering news of his disappearance to the Firelord and has to grit his teeth. Did father think he deserted his mission, betrayed his oath, succumbed to weakness?

Did he think he was not a loyal son anymore?

He stills in horror before hurrying his pace, and stuffs the few meager belongings he had on his person before he ran into Nian and this whole mess started.

And to think, he was planning to return to his father with a gift that wasn’t seen in decades, now Zuko would be lucky if he manages to make it back to his crew in one piece.

Azula was probably laughing herself to bits.

He finishes shoving in his things and ties the straps around his shoulders, adjusting the cuffs of the clothes he borrowed from Horado. Well, technically. He'll return them, someday. Perhaps once he’s regained his rightful place he can come back here under semblance of a vacation. Or as a conqueror, the thought comes to him and it’s not without merit. The Sun Warriors were a shadow of what they once were but what better gift to give Agni’s chosen than this lost wonder.

Yes, he’ll do that, he decides as he begins sneaking out of the hut and tip toes to where the trees are thickest. 

He is taking his fifth step in climbing when he hears the screech. “Don’t!” 

Zuko tenses before he consciously realizes it. He worries he’s been discovered, only to turn around to realize he’s not. He has not even been noticed at all.

A group of little children has gathered around, the dragon in its center. Their motions are hard to decipher, limbs indistinguishable from one another but he thinks they might be nudging each other forward.

The little children let out a collective gasp when the dragon’s head inches closer before they all freeze. The smallest one, caught at the front, looks to his friends for backup. They all remain motionless. The dragon lets out a puff of smoke before it lays back its head on its hind legs and closes its eyes, a snore escaping its nostrils.

It’s enough to break the spell. They scurry away in a jumble of harried limbs, their whispers so loud, Zuko can hear some of the words they speak. They're urging each other to hide before they can't. 

Eventually, they disappear from view. The dragon opens its eyes and gives a languid stretch of its wings.

An unexpected ache swells in his chest, right at his heart. Zuko clutches his at his side, blinking away furious tears.

Sometimes on Ember Island, when the house was quiet and the world felt peaceful, Mom would play Hide and Seek with them. Dad would often be in his office then and Uncle would be in the town, for a business or another. Lu Ten would join sides with Mother while he and Azula raced to find a faithful corner to stow away behind, hushing giggles in their hands and shrieking when inevitably they’d be found, trying with all their might to secure victory and flee.

They'd scream in refusal when they get captured and run the moment they were let go to start the game again.

Zuko lets out a sharp exhale and climbs back down.

* * *

"The townfolk woke one day to find the house of the family up in flames. Screams rang for help and benders hurried to put it out. But unseen on the mountains raged a mighty battle. For the dragons' enemies had sprung their trap. The older ones were slain, and none but the younglings remained, running to the highest peak for refuge.

“But their enemies were relentless and did not let the height nor the flames deter them. On the very top, the young ones had run out of hiding and the hunters knew it too. Yet they did not attack."

Her children held their breath.

Ursa continued.

"They knew that to obtain the dragons’ scales, they had to discard their human skins, for if they were killed in it, their other form would be lost to them."

"They're gonna die?" Azula asked.

"They would have, had the eldest of them not been prepared to risk one last chance at fleeing. The young ones hadn’t mastered their transformation but he had. Quickly, he shifted and gave chase. The hunters split to kill him, leaving the younger ones with only half of them to fight. Bender against bender, and the mountain side flashed with fire.”

Her drawing papers long abandoned, she couldn’t help but glance at them, remembering brushes of ink against parchment in time so long passed.

“At long last the battle grew quiter.”

Zuko looked at her worriedly, recognising the change in her tone.

“Until, a splitting roar pierced the air and shook the very earth. The mountain crumbled and chunks of rock fell, an avalanche triggered. It was the older brother, he’d fallen.”

So many of her family members dead, secrets buried, pai sho games played for survival.

“The hunters were buried under debris, unable to flee, and the younger ones jumped off the mountain, a trail of flames following them. From them or their enemies, no one could tell. But the people swore they saw the fire diverging into three paths, the last survivors of the family managing one last feat and transforming, scattered by stone and injury.

“No one knew where they went or if they truly lived but sometimes news would be spotted of unusual sightings, a Mainlander would swear she saw wings in the clouds. An Air Nation man would boast of taming a dragon. An Earth Kingdom family would claim to be able to replicate the likeness of dragon scales.” 

She flicked her fingers over their noses.   


“The End.” 

* * *

His… the dragon is agitated. 

It starts on a bland day, filled with the usual routines. Patli guides the dragon through the meditation, fixing more hidden damage and surveying the results. Zuko doesn't hover, but he remains close by, observing.

It pounds on the ground with its limbs as it walks, shaking the layer of earth beneath them. There's a strange kind of tension in the air, like a storm is coming. 

It buzzes under his skin.

A day passes, then another and another until they reach a week. Zuko's alarm flares when he finds blood below her on the seventh day and even the more cautious of the people murmur about what's happening. 

Could she be dy-

No, no, no. she can’t be, she’s not allowed to.

She can’t die.

When the world goes to sleep, Zuko stomps close to her, then sofly runs a hand over her wings. His… the dragon hisses, but doesn't fold away, gold eyes watching the world blearily.

He asked but Nian shrugged, shoulders shaking from nerves. She doesn't know what's happening either.

The dragon lets out another grunt. 

"It's okay," he says. Too scratchy, his voice isn't the calm timbre he hopes it is, but he feels so useless and it is suffocating. "You're gonna be fine."

She has to be.

* * *

The next morning, Zuko wakes up and there is no dragon at all, just empty skin, deflated over itself. He screams for Uncle and Nian before he realises it and they come barreling from the hut. Others come too, he's sure, Gabor and Akna, who live next door, maybe Patli, possibly even the Chief. He can't be sure, he's too busy with horror clawing at his chest.

Nian pants for air at his side, sobbing. 

He doesn't understand. He doesn't understand. He doesn't understand, doesn't understand, doesn't doesn't doesn't. What happened, he doesn't understand. 

They said the dragon was his mother but now there isn't a dragon at all.

Uncle is the first to move. 

He digs hands into the skin and begins to gradually peel it away and Zuko, he wants him to stop, he doesn't want to see it but the words, they are stuck in his throat (he doesn't understand).

Layers pulled back, his brain short circuits when a human head peeks from underneath the skin.

Eyes closed, covered with grime, breathing far too shallow but undoubtedly human.

Undoubtedly his mother.

* * *

Later that night, she stood behind Azula, running gentle hands through her daughter's hair. Azula sat on the vanity's chair, swinging her legs back and forth and watching her motion in the mirror as Ursa untangled knots so she could comb the strands. 

"Are there any more stories, about the dragons?"

Ursa paused for the briefest moments before she sighed and shook her head. "No. Not to my knowledge."

Azula pouted, though she knew her daughter would deny it vehemently if confronted. It was not a whole body motion but it came dearly close, a slump of the shoulders, a crinkling of her nose, a puff of her cheeks. When she was disappointed, she made it clear to the whole world.

She combed the thick black hair, then gathered it together until it sat in a phoenix tail on the crown of her head, securing it with a crimson ribbon. 

"People tried to fill the gaps though," she continued, meeting Azula's eyes in the mirror who perked up in curiosity. "Of their tales after the battle, wondering if the dragons reunited, finding their sole family in the world."

"And do they," Azula asked, peering up at her, "ever find each other again?"

A sudden burst of something hollow, something aching in her heart and she folded herself on the chair, pressing Azula to her chest and murmured to her daughter a wish that she couldn't possibly understand and that Ursa hoped she never had a reason to. "I hope so."

**Author's Note:**

> Please, don't be shy to tell me if you liked this, and I hope the reason for Ursa's inability to change back was explained well. I', so eager to hear your reactions to the first chapter? What did you think? Was there a particular scene you liked? Did you guys like Horado (I liked him very much, major disgruntled college freshman energy) What are you looking forward to? What do you think Azula is up to? (more curious than anything, _I_ already know what she is up to, which is reassuring, we'll see if she sticks to plan) Also Ursa is in human form now, hmmm.
> 
> Special thanks to everyone who wrote comments on the previous work or gave a kudo, it was very uplifting and I appreciated it very much. I hope you guys liked this. Until next time!


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